


quiet nights

by 101places



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Autistic Jemma Simmons, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Jemma Simmons Has PTSD, Nightmares, Non-Verbal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:00:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22191451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/101places/pseuds/101places
Summary: Simmons has a nightmare.( AKA : i wanted an excuse to write hurt/comfort )
Relationships: Leo Fitz/Jemma Simmons
Comments: 4
Kudos: 50





	quiet nights

**Author's Note:**

> every time i try to write simmons ptsd she goes 'no.' and anyway this time she refused and i ended up with nonverbal simmons, so ?? thats something i guess
> 
> i want to write more about autistic simmons + going nonverbal bc i have some Thoughts but for now ill leave it as this
> 
> as always, comments/kudos warm my heart

She awoke with a gasp, and as she looked around the dark room found that she had no idea where she was.

There must have been some light coming into the room from somewhere, because long, dark shadows were cast against the wall, and as Simmons caught sight of them from the corner of her eyes she found her already erratic heartbeat becoming faster.

Her gaze darted around the room, trying to ground herself, trying to work out where she was, but it was as if there was a barrier in her mind preventing anything from slipping into place. Even if this room was familiar, she wasn’t able to recognise it, and the longer she went without knowing where she was, the more panicked she became- and the more panicked she became, the less able she was to recognise anything, and the less able she was to-

Suddenly, the room was drenched in light.

Simmons shut her eyes tightly against the onslaught, her eyes aching as they frantically tried to adjust.

“Sorry,” A voice spoke. A familiar voice, that even in her panicked state she could place. “I tried talking, but you didn’t react, and I know touching is out of the question when- no, that doesn’t matter. Jemma?”

He was waiting for her to acknowledge him. Trying to see how aware of the moment she was. It wasn’t a method that had come to him naturally- it was something the two of them had learnt along the way.

Right. That was right. This had happened before, hadn’t it?

She took in a breath of air, and let herself focus. She could feel the mattress beneath her. She could feel how it caved slightly under her weight. She could feel the blanket on top of her, tightly wound around her legs from where, she assumed, she’d been moving in her sleep. She could feel slight heat next to her, from another person’s body.

Right. Another person. She wasn’t alone right now. She could still feel someone else in the room - Fitz. He was quiet, having realised that she was trying to ground herself. Keeping his distance, giving her space. Waiting for her to make the next move.

She gave herself a few more moments to breathe in and out slowly. She could feel her heart begin to return to a normal pace.

Enough time had passed and her eyes had adjusted to the light for the most part, so she opened them cautiously, looking around at the room once again. In the light and the calm, she could recognise where she was. This was her bedroom. This was her home. This was safe.

She looked up, her gaze fixing on Fitz. He was looking back at her with undisguised concern. He still looked half-asleep, and she couldn’t help but feel a stab of guilt at having woken him - she was fine. He should be able to sleep through the night without having to worry about her.

“Hey.” He greeted gently, finally, “How can I help?”

A long time ago, he had retired asking her if she was okay in these situations. He’d learnt that her response would be the same every time - even if she was struggling to breathe and had tears streaming down her face, she would claim that she was fine. Asking if she was okay really was just a waste of time.

After that, he had begun to ask if he could help, but had quickly discovered that phrasing hadn’t helped, either. Every time, she’d tell him no. He couldn’t help. She didn’t need help. Sometimes, if she was particularly loose-lipped, she’d try to explain to him that she should be able to manage this by herself - that it was wrong of her to rely on him to this extent.

So he began to ask how he could help. Fitz had learnt the specific phrase that would give him the opening he needed to help, and Simmons had learnt that Fitz was an incredibly stubborn man.

Now, Simmons breathing was under control, and her heart-rate was back to a more-or-less normal level, but she found that she couldn’t get herself to respond to Fitz’s question. The words were there in her head - she knew exactly what she  _ wanted _ to say - but it was as if there was a big, thick wall in her brain keeping those words from reaching her mouth.

She pressed her lips together firmly, her brows furrowing in irritation and tears springing into her eyes. Now, this just wasn’t fair.

Noticing her distress, Fitz tried another angle. “Can I touch you?”

Thankfully, she was still able to nod.

Fitz shifted closer, wrapping his arms around her and rubbing up and down her arms comfortingly. She melted into his chest and looked up at the ceiling. She let silence stretch between them, the feeling of Fitz’s body against hers helping to calm her down further, before she felt able to make another attempt at communication.

She moved so that she could use her hands freely, and slowly signed out. < _ I’m sorry for waking you _ . >

Fitz watched her hands moving intently, translating the signs into English in his head. “You don’t need to apologise for that.” He said, planting a gentle kiss into her hair. “Do you… want to tell me what it was about?”

Simmons paused. < _ I… it was just the same as normal, really. Nothing worth talking about. _ >

It was clear that Fitz didn’t agree with her, but he could tell that she didn’t want to talk about it, so didn’t press further. He began to rhythmically stroke through her hair, and Simmons was happy to let the feeling of warmth and safety travel across her body.

“Well, whatever it was, I’m glad it woke me up.” Fitz told her. “I want to be able to help you.”

< _ Silly _ . >

“Huh? Wha- how’s that silly?”

< _ There’s no point in us both being exhausted. _ >

“I’d prefer to be exhausted with you, than for you to be exhausted alone.”

Simmons laughed softly and shook her head. < _ That’s even sillier _ . >

“I really don’t think it is.” Fitz said, and kissed her head again. “But, fine. I’ll be the silly one, then.”

They stayed laying together like that, until after some time had passed, Fitz spoke up again.

“Do you mind if I turn the light back off?” He asked.

Simmons shook her head, and with a click, the room fell back into darkness.

The room was silent, except for the steady sounds of their breaths. Simmons counted every rise and fall of Fitz’s chest, letting the sound and steady movement lull her back into sleep.

When she felt that she was on the verge of dropping off, she shifted to bury her head in the crook of Fitz’s neck and, finally, managed to mumble softly. “I love you.”

She had fallen into a lighter sleep before she heard Fitz quietly reply, “I love you too.” and kiss the top of her head.


End file.
